


Peter Actually Gets It

by 1Ginger1Keyboard



Series: Teen Wolf Oneshots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Healthy Relationships, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentions of Suicide Attempt, Past Rape/Non-con, Peter Hale Deserves Nice Things, Peter Hale Has A Heart, Peter Hale is a Softie, Stiles tried to end his life, Stiles wants to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Ginger1Keyboard/pseuds/1Ginger1Keyboard
Summary: Peter found Stiles after he attempted to end his own life, the two grow a little closer and they get to share an intimate moment together.
Relationships: Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035789
Comments: 12
Kudos: 241





	1. A moment of clarity

Peter had come to bother Stiles about one of his rarest books he owned that had gone missing. It was when he pounced though the window he found Stiles on the floor, there was a distinct lack of the typical frantic heartbeat. If Peter hadn’t started CPR when he did Stiles would not have made it to see the sunlight again, it was thanks to Peter that Stiles was alive. 

Stiles had separated himself from the group after he was released from the hospital, his medication was now monitored. Every morning Stiles’ father gives him his medication, then he gives Stiles a small pillbox with enough medication to get him through the day if he needs any. It was then on the night when Stiles brings the Sheriff his tea he gets his last set of tablets if the Sheriff was not on shift they sat watching TV together and he gave Stiles his last tablet before he went to bed. 

The Sheriff had made arrangements for someone to spend the night with Stiles while he was away at an overnight conference, it was definitely not who Stiles was expecting when he opened the door. Peter fucking Hale, Lucifer in a V-neck was stood in front of him. 

Peter took over the TV, Stiles was unable to watch his programme, he sat pouting on his computer, he had started to create his own bestiary, even starting to do a little drawing to add illustrations and diagrams. Occasionally Peter would lean over and criticise the drawing for any inaccuracies. 

It was a week later, Peter dragged Stiles away from the movie night he was having with the pack. Stiles watched through the car window silently as they travelled for about two hours, they were in the next town, Peter parked outside a nice office building. 

Stood at the reception of the business centre, talking to the woman at the front desk.

“Appointment for Peter Hale, and guest...”

The woman flirted with Peter, chatting for a while before she expressed that he could go in with his guest.

Peter led Stiles into a large office, a woman sat behind a desk, looking up and smiling. She cocked a brow at Stiles but gestured for them both to sit down. She finished writing in her notebook, before looking up at them. 

“I wasn’t sure you would turn up to your session this week...but, glad that you are here, this isn’t your nephew I take?”

Stiles could feel her eyes roaming him for details, taking in the deep desperate hints at why Peter dragged him into the office. 

“No, I simply wouldn’t tolerate a journey with him sat next to me...but, this is Stiles.”

A polite smile graced her lips, picking up a different note book flicking some pages before re-reading the page, then turning to a blank page and picking up her pen and beginning to note things down. 

“Why don’t we cover what would help with your joint emotions?”

It was thirty minutes into the strange session when Stiles’ phone wouldn’t stop ringing, excusing himself and answering Scott’s call. He knew Scott would call his dad if he didn’t pick up after four missed calls, he couldn’t bear the idea of worrying his dad. 

“Stiles...where are you? Are you okay? You haven’t taken anything have you?” Scott’s voice broke for a moment, Stiles knew he had been crying.

“Scott, take a breath. I was getting restless...Peter had kidnapped me and now I’m in some fancy office, I think he’s making a business deal...he used to be a lawyer.” Scott let out a nervous breath. 

“Do you need me to pick you up?” Stiles looked down at his feet, his ears tuned into the conversation Peter was having. 

“How many people do you think go by the name Stiles?...don’t give me that look...fine, yes, it’s that Stiles.”

“Stiles?” Zoning back into his conversation with Scott.

“No, no...someone has got to make sure he isn’t scheming to kill us all...”

Slipping back into the room he returned to his seat, glancing over at Peter who was staring absently into the air, he looked calm. Like he had a thought he was trying to catch, his eyes flicked a little before he appeared to come back to his senses. 

Stiles watched passively as Peter struggled through an hour and a half of talking about his feelings, regret relating to his niece’s death. How he felt caged, trapped within his head like he was in the coma again. Pushing at imaginary walls that he wanted to escape from, clawing at his own head to try and stop him attacking his niece. He even mentioned his first memory of Laura, holding her the day Talia brought her home from the hospital. Big blues looking at him. 

Peter’s eyes turned glassy but he didn’t let tears fall, he was getting better but he wasn’t ready to be that exposed. He moved onto easier subjects, he talked about the parts he is missing from the resurrection. He exposed his vulnerability in front of Stiles. 

“Can you elaborate on some of the problems...the parts you’re missing?”

The wolves eyes glance across to Stiles, swallowing before nodding, composing himself for a moment. Clearing his throat and sitting up straight, slapping the flirty smile on. 

“My fine motor skills are missing...I used to draw, I can’t hold the pencil...they just snap. Laces are no longer an option, I get frustrated...I’ve ruined some very nice shoes out of frustration...buttons are complicated.”

Stiles hadn’t noticed the changes, Peter wore his skirts without buttons done up, his shoes were always slip-ons, had Stiles ever seen Peter pick up a pen. He doesn’t think he has. 

“If the button and hole are large enough I can manage them, so trousers I can handle, but...I have to be able to see the buttons to do them up, such as shirts...I have tried mirrors...but they confuse the wolf...again, expensive shirts shredded.”

Stiles was kicking at his lace wondering if he was like a taunt to peter that other people could do things he couldn’t. Peter wouldn’t look at him, but the confessions had started and now it seemed Peter couldn’t stop them. 

“I have lost memories, passive things that I know I should be able to do, but when I try and find the information it’s gone. I discovered I can’t set up a chessboard, I have had to resort to online games, they don’t require setup...cooking has become increasingly difficult, I’ve lost some of the instructions along the way, I know I should be able to...dice...a tomato, but I don’t know how to do it.” Peter spat the last part as if it had offended him. 

That evening is what Stiles blames for why he is standing in Peter’s kitchen, the wolf would be home any moment, it wasn’t hard to get a copy of Peter’s key. The ingredients were sat in a neat line in front of the chopping board, a knife to the side. The door swung open but he hadn’t entered yet. Stiles chewed his lip before calling out. 

“It’s just me...I’m alone.”

Peter enters then, Stiles isn’t a threat if he is alone and he knows it. Peter finds him soon enough, scowling at the setup, flaring blue eyes at him. A sneer crosses his mouth. 

“Is this some sort of torment? I let you come with me in the hope it would help you...not to feed you ammunition.”

Why was Stiles crying, when had his tears started? Had Peter made him cry? If stiles were honest he wasn’t sure but it was clearly something within his head. 

“Cooking helps me relax...and I wanted to see if I could help.” He hiccuped mid-sentence and swallowed thickly, Peter’s returned to the human blue, giving a half pout before disappearing through the living room and into what Stiles would guess was his bedroom. 

He returned in slacks and a t-shirt, he was barefoot. Staring down at Stiles’ laced sneakers with hatred, Stiles returned to the hall to remove them. Peter had two aprons waiting by the time he returned. Peter ended up crushing the tomato, a similar fate was left for the onion. It was a potato that helped. Stiles holding the knife with Peter’s hand over the top, careful guiding, Stiles making the small adjustment Peter couldn’t make yet. 

“Think of it as making small dice, little cubes...but with no dots.”  
Stiles could swear Peter was smiling down at the lopsided cubes of potato, Peter ended up grabbing an onion and had a second go. This one was a semi-crushed tesseract but he fried it and mixed his crushed tomato and lopsided potato. They sat together and ate in silence, for the first time Stiles saw a reserved smile grace Peter’s lips.


	2. Peter Understands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles share more than just secrets now.  
> Mentions of past Rape.

“Fight back!”

Peter pulled back from his lung, Stiles legs hurt, his arm has a nasty cut on it from a branch, he’s panting and he can’t breathe but he dodges again. Swinging the bat and connecting with Peter’s ribs, Peter slams him to the floor. Stiles lays panting, his warm breath forming clouds of steam in the frosted air. Peter growled, tugging him up, slamming him into the tree. 

“The next person that does this won’t care that you’re down, they’ll slash you like a dog!”

It was roared into his face, Peter punching next to Stiles’ head taking a chunk out of the tree Stiles’ being held again. That triggers it, Peter is open, a quick jab to his stomach, a kick to his shin and Stiles starts sprinting, adrenaline burning a path across his body. Skidding against them forest floor, bat back in hand. 

Peter lunged, bright blue eyes and fangs out, stiles hit on his jaw, dodging a swipe of claws. Bat connecting with the back of Peter’s knee. Peter feel but grabbed onto Stiles’ arm and flipped him into the dirt as they both went down. Fangs at his neck, biting into the front of his shirt, tearing the fabric. 

“That’s your throat, fail again and I’ll break your legs!”

Peter yanked stiles up before kicking his arse sending him tumbling over, jumping to land on the teens back, but stiles rolled. Stiles bared his teeth and hissed at the older wolf, ducked from his lunge and got back to his bat. Peter disappeared into the tree line, stiles had learnt better than to chase. Planting his feet and let his ears tune into the forest around him. Peter didn’t make much sound, no matter how hard he tries he will always make a sound. Stiles twisted, the bat catching Peter at his armpit and turning him off track. 

Growling and roaring at the teen, he went again. Reckless attacks, an omegas attack stiles recognises. His bat finding the rhyme, legs, ankles and the back of the knees, weak points, then arms, break a wrist and it can’t attack with claws for a few minutes. Then head hit to knock out, not kill. 

The snap that came from under Peter’s skin didn’t stop stiles, the hit to Peter’s jaw that sent him tumbling to the floor that got stiles into the position. Waiting to land the last blow. But the knock of a fist against the ground, training over. Finally a smile across Peter’s face.

He only snarled while setting his arm, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his jaw. 

“Why darling, you are making excellent progress.”

Stiles nuzzled close to his wolf, his nose rubbing against the wolves throat, smiling against hot flesh. 

“Did you really have to threaten to break my legs?”

Peter scoffed, kissing Stiles’ head and tugging him close, a moment passes between them. 

“You weren’t doing as well as I knew you could, I have to get you to react. I am sorry darling.”

Peter made it up to Stiles by taking him to a fast food joint that served more grease then food, everything a touch too sweet for Peter’s tastes. He sat snug next to his younger lover and watched him stuff his cheeks with curly fries. Stiles didn’t mind the fact that Peter would scoff and eat his bland-looking salad, but Stiles turned a blind eye when Peter stole a fry or gulped some of Stiles’ shake down. 

The training session was followed by a hot bath, Peter sprawled behind the teen, large hands soothing his aching muscles, his thumbs zoning in on the tense parts. Stiles wasn’t sure where Peter managed to pull the breathy moans from but he appreciated them, whining when Peter’s hands disappeared from his body, but cooing when they returned with some lovely smelling soap. Soft kisses and restless hands, it never goes very far, just touching each other until they release, they haven’t actually had sex yet. 

Stiles can’t say he hasn’t been putting out, because he has, regularly. But Peter always seems restrained, sometimes it looks like he is going to pop a blood vessel, but he never lets it progress. Stiles first worried that it was his age, but he soon worked out that it couldn’t be that, Peter had no issue getting off with Stiles touch him. He found out what it was in one of their now joint counselling sessions. 

When Peter was in the coma, he had moments of clarity, could feel the Doctors poking him, could sense the world around him. It wasn’t just the same tangle of smoke and disinfectant. He could even open his eyes for brief periods of time. 

It was when most of his burns had subsided, when he was mostly healed, he had felt arousal pooling in his stomach, yet he couldn’t understand what was happening, perhaps the wolf was having some sort of wet dream he wasn’t aware of. But he could wet lips touch him, he only managed to open his eyes a little but he saw her, his nurse with her lips around him. He tried to move but he couldn’t, he was so ashamed when she forced an orgasm out of him. 

He was drifting but he could get a rough idea that whenever she was on shift, typically after his bedbath she would pull the curtain across and close the door. Every time that he was awake or conscious enough to understand what was going on, he felt shame and rage bubble under his skin. He wanted to claw her throat out. She was supposed to care for him, but she was abusing him. 

It was when she escalated from using her mouth, to using other body parts, that was when he didn’t want to wake up and take revenge anymore, it was a struggle. He wanted to lose consciousness and never recover it, he wanted a hunter to walk through the door and blow his brains out. But it never happened. 

Peter had shared just a glance into his life, so Stiles decided he would do the same. He talked about Malia in the basement of Eichen house, about him not being able to stop the creature using him as a meat puppet. It made his skin crawl, he wasn’t interested in her, but it was. It wanted him to bite into her throat and drink her dry after getting a fix. He talked about the creature leaving memories from other victims, people it had possessed before Stiles. It had made them do terrible things, and sometimes, when Stiles in tired, he can’t remember if it was him or them that did them. He can’t remember if he killed a child or if someone before him did. 

Claw tipped fingers pulls him back, they have been doing that a lot recently, he can’t say he doesn’t welcome it. Because those claws have taught him pain and pleasure, taught him to love himself again, taught him how to love everything again.


End file.
